You swore you wouldn’t do it again. Not this year. Not after the last time.
And yet here you are. Clicking “Register Now” for a race you’ve absolutely no business doing. You haven’t trained. You haven’t stretched since 2022. You wheeze going up escalators. But sher look, it’s ages away, right?
Welcome to the well worn emotional rollercoaster of entering a race you’re objectively not ready for.
1. Denial
The lie begins here.
You tell yourself you’ll train properly. You’ll follow a plan. You’ll increase mileage gradually, do strength work, eat spinach, get early nights.
You believe, in that moment, that this time will be different. This will be the comeback. Never mind that your last run was cut short because your sock felt weird.
It’s fine. It’s all fine.
2. Excitement
You’re in. You get the confirmation email. You feel like you’ve achieved something just by signing up.
You start visualising the finish line. You check the course map. You post vaguely inspirational Instagram stories with the caption “Let’s gooo ” like you’re launching a mission to Mars.
You briefly wonder if you should go for a PB. You have no idea where this confidence is coming from, but it’s loud and unstoppable.
3. Panic
Roughly two weeks later, or sometimes two hours, it hits you.
You are not ready.
You’ve done one 5K in the past month and spent half of it walking and the other half thinking about crisps. The race is coming faster than expected. You try to run again and your calves respond with a formal complaint.
You google “is three weeks enough to train for a half marathon” and try to read the answers that support your lifestyle.
4. Shopping
Training may be lacking, but your online shopping game is elite.
You convince yourself that new gear will fix everything. You buy:
- New shoes
- New shorts
- A hat you’ll wear once
- A race vest even though it’s a 10K
- Socks that cost €18 and claim to “reduce fatigue” (they don’t)
You spend more time choosing a race day top than you’ve spent running all month. But at least you’ll look prepared.
5. Injury
You finally start training. One good run. Two decent ones. You start to think maybe I can do this.
And then… pain.
Could be your shin. Could be your knee. Could be your lower back which now feels like it’s been storing secrets and resentment since 2009.
Is it an injury or just tightness? You’re not sure. So you ignore it. Classic move. Very effective. Definitely won’t backfire.
6. Negotiation
The race is in days. You start bargaining with the universe.
- “If I make it halfway, I’ll be proud.”
- “Maybe I’ll just jog it for fun.”
- “I’ll walk the hills. Or all of it. Walking’s still valid.”
- “I might get sick before Sunday… better not overdo it this week.”
You check the refund policy. It’s non refundable. Obviously.
7. Completion
You start the race. You suffer. You finish.
It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t pretty. You may have cried somewhere around kilometre eight. But it’s done. You get the medal. You pose for a photo pretending you’re not on the verge of collapse.
And worst of all? You start thinking:
“I might do another one of these…”
Final Word
Signing up for a race you’re not ready for is practically a rite of passage. It’s chaotic. It’s emotional. It’s usually a bad idea and yet, somehow, it’s never quite bad enough to stop you doing it again.
You’ll forget the pain. You’ll ignore the DOMS. And before long, you’ll be back on the race website, hovering over the next “Enter Now” button like a goldfish with a short memory and a strong left quad.
Go on. You know you will.